


To Win A War

by trainc



Series: Griffin Rock Prompts [1]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Attempted desertion, Canon Compliant, Epiphany, Griffin Rock Prompt, Griffin Rock Prompt: First Impressions, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2020-10-21 12:31:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20693582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trainc/pseuds/trainc
Summary: This is an elaboration on an unwritten scene in IDW1 canon where Prowl attempted to flee the war as a neutral aboard the Peaceful Resolution but was shot down near the Manganese Mountains. A bit of insight on the tactician everyone loves to hate (and punch). Why is he so ruthless?





	To Win A War

**Author's Note:**

> Notice a certain tag! This is written from a Discord server's prompt. The server is called Griffin Rock (as from Rescue Bots) and just started writing prompt events. This prompt (First Impressions) is actually the first prompt! I decided to go with an abstract interpretation for my favorite character. I'll post the invite link in the end notes. Hope you enjoy, cheers!

Bots shuffled around the cabin, murmurs drifting through the air. Everyone was clearly divided into small groups each was familiar with, grasping onto any sense of security they could aboard the  _ Peaceful Resolution _ . Even the maintenance crew spoke in terse whispers. All passengers had the same thought: Please, let us break orbit.

Amidst the swirling anxiety on board, a select few were holding firmly onto their composure. Prowl was among the few. The data pad in his grip helped to distract.

Even before the war, none of Prowl’s colleagues would have described him as dynamic, emotive, or open. Most would label him as aloof and difficult to work with, though his efficiency was outstanding.

The  _ Peaceful Resolution _ leaned toward the smaller side for Cybertronian ships, largely because massive, firepower-focused warships dominated manufacturing. Frankly, the ship was rather useless, and the name explained it all. 

On the one hand, its unassuming appearance could allow safe passage, successfully avoiding antagonizing either Decepticon or Autobot forces. Unfortunately, Prowl’s calculations also suggested that a blatantly neutral ship escaping Cybertron’s atmosphere would certainly draw unwanted attention. At best, one faction could intercept them and inspect the ship. Aged, outdated machinery did not do any favors for speed.

Weaseling out of Cybertron was pivotal; any trouble afterward would be brief and related to tracking Cybertronian movement as well as deciding on locations to settle. But Prowl didn’t find it likely that he would stick with the  _ Peaceful Resolution _ .

His exposure to the war, however brief, hit deep. Being involved at the core of such a chaotic body of conflict curdled the energon flowing through him. He could sense the temptation to change not just his world view but also his person in order to adapt to the war. 

No. Optimus Prime, Megatron, Jetfire, Soundwave, they could all blast each off the face of Cybertron. Prowl wanted no part. 

Glances pricked the back of his neck. Others aboard likely recognized him.

He’d done more than his fill for the war.

He ignored the looks and unspoken questions. No bot seemed to be able to muster -

“Excuse me.”

Prowl’s headlights flashed in irritation.  _ Who _ had the  _ nerve  _ to interrupt his line of thought? He gathered his self control and switched off his lights, tilting his head to look his aggravator in the eyes.

Maintaining eye contact, Prowl observed that everyone else in the cabin had taken note of the confrontation. For several moments, the other bot didn’t say anything, though his lights pulsed dimly. Prowl was about to scoff and look away.

“You put the inhibitor claw on Megatron, didn’t you.”

A statement, not a question. Clearly. The event had been on Cybertronian news outlets for as long as the media could milk it for. Looking back, it was undoubtedly a turning point in history. Playing such an active role in the roots of the war sent a  _ wrong _ sensation through Prowl.

“I did.”

There was no point in playing coy. His signature monochromatic paint job and bright red chevron made for an unforgettable image; who would he be fooling to pretend it  _ wasn’t _ him?

“You took over when Sentinel Prime went down, too, and were awfully familiar with  _ Optimus Prime _ ,” the other mech crossed his arms, “Why are you, of all Cybertronians, on this ship?”

Prowl’s doorwings twitched to dispel a twinge of annoyance. The question made no sense. Proximity to the Autobot-Decepticon conflict prior to the war truly beginning was an illogical factor of consideration for  _ why _ any Cybertronian would leave. If anything, closer involvement would more likely push some bots away from it due to greater awareness of all the happenings between the factions. (Though, Prowl considered, some personalities would likely be swayed toward greater loyalty to their faction due to proximity. It simply depended on the individual.)

“I’m not built for war,” Prowl responded shortly.

He didn’t owe anyone an explanation. If the other could receive the hint to end the exchange, that would be the most desirable outcome.

Nonetheless, everyone listening in hovered in silence, waiting for more. When nothing more came and Prowl looked back down, some lights flashed in what could only be confusion and irritation. The main source of Prowl’s growing annoyance then scoffed patronizingly.

“And you’re so special for that, aren’t you?” he sneered, “None of us are built for war, you-”

Prowl felt his faceplate twitch. He turned off his audial receptors. The  _ Peaceful Resolution _ didn’t need unnecessary conflict (neither did he) before they even succeeded at escaping. Any other option would’ve shattered his willpower along with the low profile the ship was attempting to uphold.   


Sudden movement to his left and behind the raving mech caught Prowl’s attention, but he made no outward movement, simply focused on his periphery more than previously.

The second Cybertronian set one hand on the other’s shoulder while gesturing with the other. The hand was shrugged off (likely with a sneer or scoff), and the first mech pointed at Prowl before walking away. The remaining one nodded a silent apology that Prowl acknowledged with a dip of his doorwings.

Finally alone, Prowl rebooted his sensors. He filed those two mechs away to keep an eye out for in the future. Tensions ran high even on this ship, but emotionally volatile mechs were dangerous no matter which side (or lack thereof) they stood on.

Quiet conversation gradually flowed back into the cabin, and Prowl had time to finish his reading when the PA system crackled.

_ “Piece of slag - oh, it’s working! Ahem, _ ” a voice broke through the static, though still with some white noise layered over the speaking, “ _ Welcome aboard the  _ Peaceful Resolution!  _ I am your captain, Blatherskite. Now, this poor ship needs to take some time to gain altitude, so please be patient. Oh! And do try to forget the extreme hazard of our trip in the midst of the war today along with the possibility of death and capture and -” _

Fortunately, the captain’s voice dissolved into more static and screeching. Most passengers flinched and turned down their audio sensors. With one more high pitched screech, the system came back online.

“ _ Sorry about that. My co-pilot says I’m neurotic. And talkative. Enjoy the flight. _ ”

And it clicked off.

Fidgeting increased, and some were glancing toward the cockpit doubtfully. Lights flickered throughout the room.

“Some captain.”

“Way to boost morale.”

“We could fly this scrapheap better.”

“He’s too nervous to properly fly us out of Cybertron.”

Prowl put away his data pad and looked up. The familiar voice belonged to the confrontational mech. 

Seemingly forgetting the attitude of said bot, the rest of the cabin voiced some agreement.

“Maybe we’d be better off without him. If he frags up flying, then we’re all scrap.”

“This is our only chance. I don’t want someone like that piloting!”

“We should choose a new captain and get them to pilot us instead.”

Indignance grew louder, and bots started to stand up, solidifying their newfound cause. 

As a group approached the door, Prowl decided to intervene.

“This is as idiotic of a notion as the ones that sparked this war. Don’t kill the rest of us in your petty quest for purpose.”

Everyone stopped in their tracks. With all their eyes trained on him, Prowl casually flicked his doorwings and stood, head held high and staring down the aggressive mech.

“Nerve-wracked pilots are more likely to revert to practiced functioning than to lock up, which is a more desirable result than any of you could pull out of your exhausts.”

“You trying to start something?”

Prowl bristled internally. Of course not. He, like any sane mech, doesn’t want to die for stupidity. “No. I’m trying to stop something from being started.”

A couple engines growled menacingly but were swiftly cut off by the jerk of the ship starting. Several mechs tumbled into each other and were shoved off or caught. Those who regained their footing fastest made their ways to the windows to view the take-off.

Prowl merely shifted with the ship’s momentum and sent the troublemaking mech one last look before settling back down. 

“If the pilot kills us all, take the liberty of telling me ‘I told you so’ in the Afterspark,  _ if _ you think we’ll meet there. The probability of that happening is egregiously lower than the likelihood of your leadership sending us all to our deaths instead,” Prowl said with finality, “Make your choice.”

Furious footsteps thundered away. Prowl smirked to himself at the win.

Time ticked by, and Prowl’s processors were gradually becoming unsettled by the tremors shivering through the ship’s infrastructure. They seemed rather constant but varied in intensity. Attempts to discern a pattern fell flat as they seemed entirely unpredictable. (Perhaps due to the inconsistent acceleration the ship’s pilot was married to in an attempt to escape faster without breaking down.)

Checking his chronometer, Prowl noted that they’d been flying for over two hours now and should be approaching the Manganese Mountains. Another half hour would be the most time necessary to exit the atmosphere.

Normally Prowl would fill the time with work or analysis, but he didn’t expect to see any aboard or anybody still fighting the war after this escape. At least, not for several million years. Beyond that, he’d already checked all of his plans a dozen times and created at least seven backups for each. Then he checked  _ those _ over and edited over and over again until acceptable chances for survival were achieved. 

He rolled his joints and pulled up an old project on updating his graph-generating programs to occupy himself. 

Honed in on a patchy line of code, it took Prowl a second to realize his frame was thrown across the ship, slammed into the wall as a boom resonated from the gaping hole suddenly appearing near the back of the ship.

Alerts interrupted his HUD as various protocols scanned for damage. Fortunately, only external damage was found. Prowl gripped a bar fastidiously and peeked toward the breach. Several Cybertronians tumbled through the air above the mountain peaks, their grounder wheels revving helplessly. 

Someone lost their grip and shrieked as they too were sucked out of the  _ Peaceful Resolution _ . Prowl filed through reports and alerts, calming his systems. The crew burst out of the cockpit, shouting orders about bailing and parachute attachments for safe landing.

Prowl grabbed attachments for his shoulders and managed to get them on without relinquishing his grip on the rail. While the first few jumped out of the ship, Prowl’s audio receptors caught a conversation between the pilots.

“Don’t blame yourself, Skite. Nobody knew the Decepticons were-”

“We should’ve taken the safer route. I knew it. Might’ve taken longer to avoid that storm  _ and _ the mountains, but we wouldn’t be in this situation if-”

“It’s  _ not _ your fault! The Decepticons shot us down - a neutral ship. And from some secret base, no less. Nobody saw that coming.”

The Decepticons. Of course. There’d been a 38.7745% chance of the  _ Peaceful Resolution _ being downed by them, but Prowl’s calculated results for a secret base were significantly low. He’d supposed the Decepticon seekers would’ve hunted them down instead. 

Thoughts churning with new insight, Prowl jumped.

_ So this is war.  _

_ In all her fury, she chains you to violence, curling your fingers around a gun, commanding you to kill for a cause. Someone else’s cause. All the while whispering in your ear that you must believe the cause in its purity because it must be worth fighting for. Worth pushing aside the roiling in your tank at the disorder outside eating away at your home planet. Because one day there’ll be a better future? _

_ A future borne out of war. _

_ The Decepticons won’t allow any to escape from the war. Not even Autobot deserters. Is this their idea of accountability? _

_ This is a  _ Cybertronian _ war. Prowl could hear Megatron preach these very words. Every Cybertronian must stand for their cause. Take their voice and have some efficacy for their beliefs to realize them. (Unless their belief is to stop fighting.) _

_ To stop fighting. _

_ Someone has to win. _

With wind lashing at his plating and balance lost to the sensation of freefall, Prowl’s analyses clicked.

_ Someone has to win.  _

_ No matter the costs. _

He activates the parachute.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope the whole abstract first impression thing didn't go over people's heads. I'll like explain my thought process if anyone is confused though. 
> 
> Tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/tracckks  
Griffin Rock: https://discord.gg/PpZgnh9


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